


life is much better

by kirargent



Series: Triwizard-Tron [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Background Allura/Nyma, Background Hunk/Shay, Dragons, M/M, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: It doesn't take long for Lance to take his golden egg into the bath. He figures he's also got a head-start thanks to the fact that he's been hanging out with the mermaids since the first week he arrived at Hogwarts. Some unexpected difficulties: Hunk really doesn't trust that reporter guy. Lance is maybe beginning to think Keith isn't 100% terrible. School dances are always awkward. Also, that dragon still wants to adopt him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [[credit for this au!!!](http://bubleboobo.tumblr.com)]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've got the makings of a real good Slytherin, my friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow,, i'm supposed to be writing an essay but nope. have more of this au instead peace sign emoji.
> 
> also yes the title is blatantly from the little mermaid.

Lance leans forward over Pidge’s shoulder, bending his knees. “I need your help.”

Pidge jumps so hard her shoulder nearly connects with Lance’s nose. He jerks back, eyebrows raised.

Pidge turns from her massive book to scowl at him. She keeps her voice down in the library, but her whisper is heated. “Dude, don’t sneak up on people like that.”

Lance sits on the table next to Pidge’s open book, resting his feet on the chair beside her. “I need your help,” he repeats.

Pidge rolls her eyes. “I’m busy.”

Lance sticks his lips out in a dramatic pout. “It’s about Hunk.”

Pidge presses her lips together. “I’m listening." She leans back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. “But no promises.”

“I’ll take it.” Lance leans in closer, lacing his fingers together. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You’ve gotta like…get Hunk to knock his golden egg into the water, somehow.”

Pidge stares at him. She says, “What.”

Lance sighs. He sits upright, bouncing his knee. “Look, has he opened it yet?”

Pidge’s mouth twists. “Yeah.”

“And it’s just horrible screeching, right?”

Pidge narrows her eyes. “Yeah.”

“The trick is, you’ve gotta listen to it underwater.”

Pidge stares at him, her eyes slitted behind her glasses. “And how exactly did you happen to figure that out, Lance?”

Lance crosses his arms. “I took it in the bath with me. Obviously.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. “Merlin’s beard. Of course you did.” She chews her lower lip. “Okay. So, it sounds better if you stick it underwater?”

“Yep.”

“Why can’t you just tell Hunk this yourself?”

Lance huffs. “Because if I just _tell_ him, then Hunk will think I’m helping him, and he’ll say we have to tell Keith to make it fair, and I want to _beat_ Keith.”

Pidge gives him a steady look. “But you are helping him. And it’s not fair.”

“Well, yeah. But if Hunk doesn’t know that, then he can’t make me tell Keith.”

“Hm.” Pidge watches him closely. “I see your point.”

She considers him for a long, long moment. Lance taps his fingers nervously against his knees.

“Okay,” she decides, nodding. “I do want Hogwarts to win. And you’re right about Hunk wanting to keep things fair. But _I_ don’t really give a crap.” She narrows her eyes again. “You’ve got the makings of a real good Slytherin, my friend.”

Lance snorts. “Hunk says I’d be a Ravenclaw,” he says proudly.

“Of course he does,” Pidge says. “It sounds nicer than calling you a snake.”

Lance’s jaw drops. “But I look so good in blue!”

Pidge gives him a sideways smile. “Good thing you’re from Beauxbatons, then. You don’t have to worry about Sorting.”

“I guess.” Lance shrugs. “Hey, good thing I’m not from Durmstrang, huh? Those furry cloaks…" He shudders. "A fashion nightmare.”

Pidge’s smile sharpens. “Dude. I saw you checking out the Durmstrang guys when they walked in the first night. Don’t try me.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah,” Pidge says, grinning. “I’ve heard that before.”

Lance rolls his eyes, but his smile undercuts the sentiment. “You’re gonna help me out though, right?”

“Yeah,” Pidge says. “I’ll help you.”

Lance ruffles her hair before he goes.

“Don’t push your luck, Lance!” Pidge calls, but she’s soon shushed by the librarian, and Lance exits into the castle halls, grinning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will have more.. at some point. i literally have no idea when, this isn't my main project right now but i'm rly excited about it so.. probably soon?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lance,” Allura says. Her voice is clear, delicately accented. The soft blue of her dress is bright against the warm brown of her skin. “Where are your clothes?”

Winter is overtaking the late fall. The sky is a bright, hard-to-look-at gray, the clouds a thick, monotonous ceiling. Cold air bites at Lance’s bare wet skin, a light breeze sending a hard shudder up his spine.

“Dude,” Hunk says. “You look terrible.”

Lance grabs his pale blue towel from the ground, wrapping it around his shoulders. “Sh-sh-shut up.” He jams his feet into his sneakers, too eager to save his toes from the burning cold of the ground to bother drying them off first. “You two don’t look so hot, either. What happened? Please tell me it was Keith’s fault.”

Keith’s face goes lightning-storm dark. Lance gives him a wide grin full of chattering teeth.

“Not Keith,” says Hunk. “Coran.”

He looks a mess, hair sticking out in wild clumps around his signature yellow headband, the hem of his black robes painted with a thick layer of mud.

Keith doesn’t look much better. He’s managed to get dirt smeared across his right cheekbone, in addition to the muck that coats his lower legs. Splatters of something jelly-like and acid-green shimmer from their clothes.

“Ah,” Lance says, beginning to understand. “So, Keith tagged along to your Care of Magical Creatures class. What was it today?”

Keith’s voice is a low, traumatized scrape. “Weblums.”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “Weblums?”

Hunk looks vaguely ill. “You don’t wanna know, dude. Trust me.”

“So, a typical class.”

Hunk lets out a long sigh. “Pretty much. I told Keith he shouldn’t come, but—”

“But he’s more hard-headed than a hippogriff,” Lance finishes for him. “Yeah. I’ve met the guy.”

Keith’s scowl darkens as they walk toward the castle, seeking warmth and clean clothes and food. “At least I’m not the one who decided to go swimming in the middle of winter,” he says. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“November isn’t winter, dumbass.” Lance tucks his bundle of clothing under one arm, freeing a hand to scrub at his face and neck with his towel.

Hunk glances at him, looking concerned. “Keith’s right. It’s way too cold to be going for a swim, Lance.”

Lance holds up a finger. “Okay, but counterpoint: You guys have a super awesome lake. With super awesome lake monsters. So.”

“I don’t want to win the Tournament just because you were stupid, gave yourself hypothermia, and had to drop out,” Keith says irritably.

“Aww. You hear that, Hunk? Keith’s worried about me.”

Keith’s voice is flat. “Why are you so annoying?”

“Why’s your hair so terrible?” Lance counters.

Keith makes a noise of frustration in the back of his throat. “I hope that dragon finds you again and you spend the rest of your life in her nest like a tiny, flightless dragon baby.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “I hope the smell of your gross, unwashed mullet makes a weblum follow you all the way back to Durmstrang to live under your bed.”

Hunk says, sounding very tired, “Weblums are too big for that, Lance.”

Lance frowns harder. “Whatever. Then I hope a weblum sits on you, Keith.”

“You know what?” Keith snaps. “Fine. Just as long as I beat you and win the Tournament first.”

“Guys,” says Hunk. His footsteps are heavy and dragging. “School bonding, remember? Good sportsmanship. New friendships. Wizarding world community-building.”

“Hunk, man.” Lance puts a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “You know I love you. But bonding? With _Keith?_ No, thanks.”

They reach the castle, and Hunk pulls open the heavy front door. Lance slips inside first, cutting Keith off. Keith gives a sharp, irritated huff, which makes Lance grin.

Then he turns to see Allura walking straight for him, her lips a thin frown, and his grin falls.

“Lance,” Allura says. Her voice is clear, delicately accented. The soft blue of her dress is bright against the warm brown of her skin. “Where are your clothes?”

Uh oh. Lance grabs the wad of clothes tucked between his elbow and his torso, holding it up. His light blue sweats and jacket are patterned with big, dark wet splotches.

Allura arches a thin white eyebrow. “You cannot walk into the Hogwarts Castle in nothing but a swimsuit. You’re here as a representative of our school.”

“Hey, no, it’s fine, Headmistress.” Hunk comes quickly to Lance’s rescue. Although, Lance can’t be entirely sure Hunk is driven purely by friendship-related motives. There’s his wide-eyed expression to consider, and Allura’s long cloud of silver-white hair—the color is a veela trait from her mother’s side.

Allura presses her lips together. “Why are you soaking wet?”

Lance says, “Uh.” He rubs at the back of his neck, squinting as he tries to dream up an answer. He can’t exactly say, _I was in the lake exploring the mermaids’ city and trying to convince them to spill the beans about the next task_. Not in front of Hunk and Keith, at least. Allura’s made it clear how she feels about Durmstrang. Sharing task-related intel with their champion? Yeah, that’s a no-go.

Lance grins weakly. “It seemed like a good morning for a dip?”

Allura narrows her eyes.

“Dude,” Hunk says, shaking his head. “I seriously don’t get your thing about the lake. Are you sure you’re not part fish? No one loves swimming this much.”

Lance is glad that he’d been excited enough about the lake when he first got here that his sudden regular diving sessions since unlocking his golden egg actually haven’t raised any eyebrows. He’s stopped gushing about the mermaids, though. If Keith hasn’t figured it out yet, Lance is _not_ gonna make it any easier for him by mentioning them all the time.

Even if they are super cool. Lance has always wanted to meet a mermaid.

“We’ll discuss your etiquette later,” Allura decides. “As for now: there’s a reporter from the _Prophet_ who would like to meet with all three of the champions. Get dressed, Lance. You’ll be meeting him after lunch.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's something really important to consider:
> 
> how did keith get his egg in the first task? we still don't know? did he... summon a freaking sword. probably.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you know,” Lance interjects suddenly, “that Allura became Headmistress when she was only eighteen? That would make a great story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick warning for this chapter! there's a brief brief mention/implication of some creeps acting transphobic. the behavior isn't condoned by the fic or any other characters, it's literally just mentioned once, and they quite honestly get what they deserve for it, but if this might be upsetting to you, feel free to ask me for more details before you read and/or just skip this chapter <3

Hunk’s voice is a low murmur from Lance’s left side. “I don’t trust this guy.”

“Dude,” Lance whispers. “We heard you the first time.”

Though he does have to admit, the way the reporter is leaning forward as he asks Keith about entering his name into the goblet, his eyes glittering a little too bright, does make Lance feel just a little uneasy.

His nose is a sharp, skinny knife in the center of his face; his voice is a low drawl. His hair, honestly, looks more deserving of Lance's berating about haircare than Keith's.

“Do the three of you get along?” the reporter, Rolo, asks. He grins a little. “The Tournament is supposed to foster international magical cooperation, but I'd wager it might be hard to be friends with someone you’re competing against.”

There’s something about the way he says it, something about the sharp edge of his smile or the glint in his eye, that makes Lance’s neck prickle with dislike.

“No,” Lance says, voice tight. “The other guys are great. Me and Hunk were fast friends, and Keith’s—uh, an all right dude.”

Hunk blinks at him.

Lance resists the urge to look at Keith for a reaction, though the temptation to do so is a hard, heavy pull in his gut.

He hears Keith say gruffly, “Yeah. There’s no drama for your article here. Sorry.”

Rolo lifts his hands in lazy, joking surrender, quill still laced through his fingers. “Hey, all right, I’m sorry.” He flips to a fresh sheet of parchment, chewing his lip. “Okay. So, how did you and Lance hit it off, Hunk?”

Hunk narrows his eyes. He’s leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest.

“We ran into each other. We started talking. It went well. Now we’re friends.”

Lance suppresses a smile. The real story contains more of Lance sneaking around to explore the castle against Allura’s direct orders, and more of Hunk creeping out at night for a snack and to swipe some parts for a tiny animatronic lion he’d been building when he couldn’t sleep. Their first conversation was a heady rush of agreeing immediately on the spot to keep each other’s secret, and then comparing tales of past misadventures. The story that cemented their friendship, for Lance at least, is the one where Hunk docked a Ravenclaw kid a hundred House points for giving Pidge crap about using the girls’ bathroom—and then looked the other way while Pidge hexed the guy instead of taking any points from Slytherin.

It’s best, Lance figures, that none of that makes it into the _Daily Prophet_. It strikes him more solidly that this reporter guy can publish whatever he wants about the three of them.

Maybe Hunk is onto something, not trusting him.

“Did you know,” Lance interjects suddenly, “that Allura became headmistress when she was only eighteen? That would make a great story.”

Rolo glances at him, eyes dull.

“Hunk has the best grades in his school,” Keith suggests.

Lance glances at him quickly, eyebrows climbing a little. Unless it’s his imagination, the corner of Keith’s mouth twitches up just the smallest amount, like confirmation, like _yeah, I get what you’re doing. I’m in_. Something startled and warm bubbles in Lance’s chest.

“Yeah,” Rolo says, tapping his quill against his parchment and writing nothing. “Lance, I heard you weren’t born into a wizarding family. What does it feel like, going from that to being the Beauxbatons champion?”

“Neat,” Lance says flatly. “It feels neat.”

Rolo shifts in his seat. “Tell me a little about your friend Shay, Hunk. I’m told the two of you are quite…close.”

Hunk raises his eyebrows. “Shay’s my friend. She’s great. Really brave, you know? She’s a Gryffindor.” He closes his mouth, looks at Rolo like he’s daring him to prod.

Rolo licks his lips, shifting his attention to Lance’s right side instead.

“Is it true, Keith, that you’ve never known your mother?”

Lance blinks, glancing sideways at Keith. Keith’s face is a startled blank.

“Hey, man,” Hunk says sharply. “What’s that got to do with the Tournament?”

Rolo rolls his eyes. “Fine. All right. Tell me some more about your go against that dragon, Hunk. Have you always been skilled in natural magic?”

Slowly, Hunk says, “Yeah, I always have been.” He watches Rolo closely, like he’s searching for the trap hidden in this question. But Rolo seems finished with his more questionable lines of questioning: the interview from then on is much less loaded with personal landmines and far more focused on the Tournament.

This doesn’t stop Hunk from whispering in Lance’s ear as they huddle together for a photo, “I still don’t trust this guy.”

“Relax, Hunk.” Lance is trying to catch the eye of Rolo’s photographer, a pretty woman with pale yellow skin that Lance is pretty sure can’t be human. “Hey, d’you think if I flirt with that photographer, I can get her to pull some strings for me? Make my section of the article way longer than Keith’s?” He grips Hunk's arm.“Dude, do you think she could get me on the front page?”

“Don’t subject the public to that, Lance,” Keith says from just behind him.

“Oh, please. I’d be doing the wizarding world a favor.” Lance gives the camera woman a grin and a wink. “They’d be lucky to see my beautiful face on the front page of their morning paper.”

“If _I_  was lucky,” Keith says, “you would shut up.”

Lance tries to aim a kick behind himself at Keith’s shin, but the woman with the yellow skin tells them to, “Smile!” and Lance focuses on grinning for the camera.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many of you read the part of the summary that says "hunk doesn't trust this guy" and guess that rolo was gonna be the reporter, lol?
> 
> seriously like.. tell me in the comments. i live for comments.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” he says. “I’m serious about lots of things. There’s Hunk.” He holds up one finger. “And my mom’s garlic knots.” He lifts another finger, keeping count as he speaks. “Rain in the summer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE!! This is not a new chapter, it's exactly the same thing I posted yesterday but I've altered it slightly in light of the show producers saying that Allura is a teenager! (She's so brave and so TINY!!) So this piece will keep in mind her age and keep her romantic interest age-appropriate. I'll see if I can get an actual update posted later for you ! No promises tho :-)
> 
> chapter warnings: [hover here to read warnings, the tiniest of spoilers for the chapter if you'd rather avoid that](fds)

The first time that Lance seriously reconsiders his newly forged friendship with Hunk happens like this.

Hunk is leaning back against the thick trunk of a tree that stands ancient and tall on the Hogwarts lawn, his legs extended in front of him and a Herbology book open but ignored on his lap. Lance sits above him on a low branch, watching his feet swing as he kicks his legs through the air.

The air is cold, a breeze slapping Lance’s cheeks and making him hunch his shoulders. The blue-and-bronze scarf he snagged from its lonely spot abandoned on a bench helps only a little. He tucks his chin lower into its warmth. He would’ve stolen a scarf from Pidge or Hunk instead, but everything Pidge owns is green and Hunk’s scarves are yellow, and the rich Ravenclaw blue looks _amazing_ on Lance, thanks very much.

Hunk says, out of nowhere, “Keith really isn’t that bad, you know?”

Lance nearly topples out of the tree. “Buddy,” he says. “ _What?_ ”

“Keith,” Hunk repeats. “He’s actually an okay guy. Remind me why you have such an issue with him?”

Lance’s eyes go wide wide wide. He says, “Hunk. Pal. Where do I even start?”

Hunk flips a page in his book, fingers brushing over a sketch of a spiky-leafed plant. “Uh, maybe the beginning?” he suggests. “How did this whole thing start?”

“Well,” Lance says. “He’s from Durmstrang. I’m from Beauxbatons. Duh, we can’t stand each other.”

Lance remembers being in the Beaxbatons carriage on the way here, remembers Allura’s grim expression when she said, _Our champion must not lose to Durmstrang. That cannot happen._

“Okay,” Hunk says. “That’s…pretty stupid. Also, we haven’t known each other that long, but I get the feeling you don’t usually do what’s expected of you.”

“Yeah.” Lance kicks his feet harder. “Okay, but he’s also _Keith_.” His brow furrows. “He’s stuck-up! Plus he has terrible hair. Like, okay, whatever, so he’s like, the best student Durmstrang’s had in a while. So what? He still doesn’t wash his mullet. He’s not all that.”

“So…what, you hate him because he’s a good wizard? So are you, Lance.”

Lance just shrugs, the compliment sliding off like water droplets. “He’s too full of himself. It’s annoying, and I’m gonna win just to wipe the smirk off his stupid face.”

Hunk gives a light chuckle. “Oh, buddy. Dude. I support you in beating Keith, but I think you’re forgetting that _I’m_ in first place right now. Don’t get too cocky.”

Lance rolls his eyes, tipping his head back to look at the early evening sun fragmented through the tree’s winter-stripped branches. “That’s only because your spell with the rocks and vines and crap worked just fine, while my dragon decided she wanted to be my new mom.”

The first task is still a touchy subject, even if Lance can admit that what he’s heard of Hunk’s strategy sounds pretty cool. Using his affinity for earth-based magic, he distracted the dragon with a troupe of boulders dancing in the air while he enchanted a vine to slip the golden egg from its nest. If she began to take too much interest in him, he’d threaten her real eggs with a boulder to refocus her attention.

At least Keith’s dragon turned out to be a lightning-fast, wickedly mean one. Lance may be in second place, but at least that’s above Keith.

“Oh, yeah,” Lance says. “Speaking of dragons.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow. “I don’t love where this is going.”

“You know how I’m so awesome and overflowing with charm that my dragon basically fell in love with me?”

“Mistook you for a baby dragon,” Hunk corrects. “But, yes.”

“Anyway. They’re packing ‘em off back home tomorrow,” Lance says. “But Allura says she talked to Shiro, and they’ve had a real crappy time trying to get Blue to calm down and let them pack up her eggs. They’ll tranq‘ her if they have to, but it’s way less pleasant than just giving her a sleeping draught for breakfast before they head out.”

“Where are you going with this, Lance?” Hunk sounds immensely tired. Lance decides to chalk his fatigue up to the interview, and last week’s task, and all his course work.

Lance grins. “Shiro wanted to know if I could stop by the enclosure later. He thinks maybe I could help.” He straightens his shoulders, sitting taller. “ _Shiro_ wants _my_ help. With _dragons_.”

“Nice. You’re gonna go?”

“Yeah, dude.” Lance swings his feet. “So, you busy tonight? Wanna come watch me tame some dragons?”

Hunk tips his neck back to look up at Lance, a smile on his face. “I wish I could, buddy. I’m actually, uh.” His eyes flick away. “I’m meeting up with Shay later.”

“Hey!” Lance slaps the tree trunk beside him. “Nice one, dude!”

Hunk’s mouth struggles to rid itself of a smile; he looks away. “Shut up. It’s not like that. We’re just gonna study for a while—and I want to ask her if she knows anything about spells for breathing underwater.”

Lance raises his eyebrows. He glances away from Hunk, tracing a fingertip along a swirl of bark around a knot in the tree. “Oh?”

“Don’t, Lance. I know you told Pidge to throw my egg into the lake.”

Lance returns his full attention to Hunk. “She threw it in the lake?”

Hunk lifts a brow. “Were those not your exact instructions?”

“Uh, _no_. I told her to be subtle! Knock it into the bath or something.”

“Why would Pidge be with me in the bath?”

Lance says, “Oh.” He frowns. “Well. Still, she was supposed to figure out something discreet.”

Hunk rolls his eyes. “Anyway. You shouldn’t have helped me out. But—thanks, dude.”

“No problem.” Lance grins slowly, extending his arms upward in a lazy stretch. “I didn’t need the advantage, anyway. An underwater task? You guys are gonna eat my bubbles. You don’t grow up on the beach without acquiring some _skills_.”

Hunk says, “Why are you like this? I thought Beauxbatons was all… _classy_ and stuff.”

Lance snorts. “Yep. We’re supposed to be. You should see Allura’s ‘Damn it, Lance!’ face.”

“I have,” Hunk says. “It’s _scary_.”

It’s then that Lance catches sight of a mullet that he would recognize anywhere, attached to a scrawny frame and a scowl.

“Keith!” Lance calls. “Hey, Keith! C’mere!”

Hunk looks at him, eyebrows raised.

Keith stops, turns, hesitates. He comes toward them.

As he approaches, Lance can see that his eyes are narrowed. “What do you want, Lance?”

Lance swings his feet. “You wanna hang out later? The dragon tamers need my help, and it’d be a shame if no one was around to see me being awesome.”

Keith stares at him.

Lance kicks his feet more vigorously, eyebrows arched expectantly. After a moment of quiet he says, “See, Hunk? I’m friendly. Keith’s the one who makes it impossible for us to get along.”

Keith looks thunderstruck. “ _I’m_ the one who’s impossible?”

Lance scrunches his nose. “Uh, yeah, dude. You’re terrible.”

Keith stares at him, open-mouthed. Then he frowns. “Fine,” he snaps. “Whatever. When do you want to hang out? Where should I meet you?”

“Hah,” Lance says. “See, Hunk. I’m a delight. I’m making friends all over the place.”

Hunk looks very tired and very concerned. Words riding out on a sigh, he says, “Just…please don’t kill each other.”

 

/

 

“You’re—you’re Shiro,” Lance tells Shiro, as if this might be something that Shiro has missed and needs to be informed of. “You’re Takashi Shirogane.”

Shiro blinks. He says, “I guess I am.” He extends a hand, looking faintly amused. “It’s Lance, right?”

“Oh,” Lance says. “Oh, right. Yeah, I’m Lance. Hi.” He shakes Shiro’s hand—his left, because his right arm ends somewhere around his elbow and the sleeve of his robes is tied off just below it.

Keith stands a pace behind and to Lance’s right, his arms folded. “Can we get to the point, please?”

Shiro’s eyes shift away from Lance, a smile pulling up his mouth. “Never have been patient, have you?”

Lance looks from Shiro to Keith, his eyes narrowing. “Hang on. You two know each other?”

Evening casts shadows down from the ridges of Keith’s cheekbones, the slope of his throat. His lips pinch together and he turns his face away, and shadow swallows his features.

“Yeah,” Shiro says. He’s smiling lightly, face less closed than Keith’s. “Keith hasn’t talked about me, huh?”

“Uh, _no_ ,” Lance says. “Keith, I can’t believe you were holding out on me!”

Keith scowls at him. “He’s just Shiro. What’s the big deal?”

Shiro laughs, says, “Ouch,” putting a hand to his chest, while Lance is busy spluttering.

“Just Shiro! He’s—Keith, come on! He was—he was being scouted by like seven different Quidditch teams when he graduated, and then he went off and lived with dragons for a year! That’s—oh my god, Keith. How is that not the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?”

Keith shrugs, looking somewhat venomous. “He’s not that good. I’m faster than him on a broom.”

Lance gapes at him.

Shiro chuckles. “It’s true, actually. That’s—flattering though, Lance. Thanks.”

Lance’s cheeks feel hot. “Uh.” He rubs at the back of his neck, glancing away. “Sure, dude. Uh—you needed help with some dragons?”

“Just the one.” Shiro is smiling a little still as he gestures for them to follow him, heading along the edge of the forest until the castle and the lake are out of sight and they reach the dragons’ nests.

“We need to pack up the eggs so we can transport them safely,” Shiro explains. They’ve come to a stop a few yards from the nearest dragon, and along the edge of the forest Lance can see the large shapes of the other dragons as well, curled up lazily as the sun’s light fades.

“Problem is, Blue’s not letting us get close. We think—well. After your task, Lance, she seems to think one of her hatchlings was taken away. She’s not letting us get anywhere near the rest of her clutch.”

Lance crosses his arms as a grin splits Keith’s face. He does his best to ignore Keith. “Okay. So, what do you want me to do?”

Shiro shrugs. “I’m thinking _you_ might be able to get close.”

Lance says, “Uh.”

“Then you can either distract her while I move her eggs, or you can get them yourself.”

Lance says again, “Um.”

“Yeah?” Shiro says.

“Uh, what if she notices what you’re doing? Won’t she get pissed?”

“I mean,” Shiro says. “Yes?”

“So how do I, like…” Lance gestures vaguely, waving both of his hands. “Not die?”

“If all three of us cast a stunner, it should at least slow her down while you run out of there.”

Lance eyes the dragon’s long neck, her long, long tail, that mouth that can spout a long stream of fire if she’s provoked. He says, slowly, “Uhhh…I’m not _that_ fast a sprinter, dude.”

He purses his lips, watching the blue dragon sleep. She snores gently, a deep gravelly sound from her huge throat. A tiny puff of flame flares from her nostrils. She’s kind of cute, if still totally terrifying. Lance wants to help if he can. He makes a face. “Can I have like, a broom, at least? To get out of there faster?”

“That’s a great idea,” Shiro says. “Did you know we spend a lot of time in the air with the dragons?”

“No,” Lance says, trying not to look too fascinated.

“Huh,” says Shiro. “You just like flying, then? That’s how I met Keith, you know. This little guy was always taking off instead of talking to anyone.”

“Um,” Lance says. “Yeah, I’m—I love flying. I’m a great flier. Totally awesome.”

He’s not. He’s not totally awesome.

He points a finger at Shiro. “Also, you’re going to tell me more about Keith. This sounds completely amazing. He’s seriously always been an antisocial jerk?”

“Just because you annoy me doesn’t mean I’m a jerk, Lance!”

“Nope,” Lance says, grinning. “You’re terrible. Own it, dude.”

“I get along fine with people,” Keith growls. “I’m just focused. I don’t like spending all my time just hanging out.”

“That feels like an insult, but you know what? I’m gonna let it slide.” Lance is still grinning, while Keith looks about ready to start spitting fire. Shiro watches them with raised eyebrows.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’ll grab you a broom, Lance. Just a sec.” He leaves for a tent at the forest’s edge that Lance hadn’t noticed before, small and green.

Lance looks back to Keith, his grin returning to full width when he sees that Keith’s still watching him with narrowed eyes and an irritated pout.

“What?” Lance asks. “Dragon got your tongue?”

Keith rolls his eyes, looking away. “Are you ever serious about anything?”

Lance blinks, grin fading a notch. “Hey,” he says. “I’m serious about lots of things. There’s Hunk.” He holds up one finger. “And my mom’s garlic knots.” He lifts another finger, keeping count as he speaks. “Rain in the summer.”

Keith’s eyes drift back to him, a little of the poison gone from his gaze.

Lance adds to the list, a sharp grin unfurling, “Getting Allura to go on a date with me,” and Keith’s scowl returns in full force.

“She’s way out of your league, Lance,” he says.

“And I didn't think students were permitted to date their Headmistress,” says Shiro, returning.

“Yeah,” Lance says, sighing. ““She’s part veela, did you know that?" He looks into the distance wistfully. "She's so badass. She could eat me alive.”

Shiro chuckles. Lance can feel Keith looking at him, his arms crossed but his eyes mutinously curious. “Does it…Do you get used to it? The veela thing? I mean, you seem okay around her.”

At this, Lance snorts. “Well, of course I’m fine. I think you’ve gotta be like, at least a little attracted to them for their powers to work.”

“You don’t think Allura’s—?” Keith cuts himself off without finishing his sentence, and Lance is grinning again.

“Hot? I mean, duh, she’s stunning, but like—she’s a girl, dude. Not exactly my type.”

Keith’s mouth opens.

Lance’s grin curls wider still, but it sharpens, too, a flash in his eyes like light off a knife. “Don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

Teasing Keith is fun, but like—if this is gonna be a _thing_ , then that’s it, buddy. No more fun, teasing rivalry—Lance will sharpen razors at all his edges.

Keith is blinking at him. “Uh, no. That’s—fine.” He clears his throat. “That’s…great.”

Lance’s eyebrows climb. A smirk blossoms. His chest floods with a totally different kind of buzzing energy. “‘Great,’ huh? Why—you interested?”

Keith turns, his face settling in a scowl, and takes the broomstick from Shiro’s hand. “In guys? Yeah. You? Don’t flatter yourself.” He holds out the broom, expression mild.

Lance’s heart does a neat little trick where it stops beating for a split-second, and then starts working double-time to catch up.

“Shiro, did you hear what he said to me?” Lance demands, widening his eyes. “Come on, who’s not into me? _Me_. I’m the freaking Elder Wand of guys. Everybody wants this.”

“Well, I can certainly think of at least one dragon who does,” Shiro says, looking amused.

Keith snorts, which makes Lance scowl.

“All right, come on,” Shiro says, and Lance and Keith follow him, the sound of Keith's laughter still filling the air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i prob wouldn't sort lance into ravenclaw but the scarves would look?? so nice on him?? like i'm gay but he's so cute :/
> 
> thanks for leaving me comments, i lov comments !!!!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to try to remove her eggs from the nest,” says Shiro’s voice from somewhere behind Lance.
> 
> “Oh, god,” Lance says. “I’m probably about to be eaten by a dragon. If I die tonight, Keith, tell Hunk that I love him. Tell Pidge she can’t have my stuff, I already promised it to Hunk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is basically just. a thousand words of them bickering. lmao.

The Chinese Fireball had lifted her spiked, scarlet head as they’d approached the dragons, fixed her golden eyes on Keith, and blown a warning cloud of fire into the darkening night air.

This makes it all the more satisfying to sit on the foreleg of the blue dragon, her grand head resting between her front legs as Lance traces the ridges of her scales with his fingertips.

“This really isn’t surprising, you know?” he says. “I mean…I’m so charming I’m like a magnet for the ladies, and you…You could use some work, Keith.”

“Your attitude could use some work.” The gate of the thick wooden walls that surround the dragons is open, and Keith stands just inside, his arms crossed and his expression sullen.

“Uh, Blue begs to differ.” Lance runs his palm along the length of one of the dragon’s long, curved horns. “Don’t you, beautiful?” He’s adopted the cooing voice he uses when talking to his Tía Andrea’s small, skittish dachshund. The dragon’s big golden eyes flicker closed, her head tilting toward Lance’s touch. Lance grins. “You think I’m perfect, huh, don’t you?”

“I can’t watch this,” Keith says.

“You can go see yours again, if you want,” Shiro offers.

Keith glances over at the Chinese Fireball, her eyes narrowed and still following him. Keith swallows. “I think I’m good,” he says. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to try to slip around behind her,” Shiro says. “You good, Lance?”

“Yeah,” Lance says, still crooning. “Yeah, we’re good, aren’t we, Blue?”

Keith’s scowl is the Killing Curse in physical form. Lance bites down on a grin.

“Don’t be jealous of Blue, dude. It can be your turn with me next, if you want.”

“I’d rather face the Fireball again,” Keith says drily. The Fireball is currently eyeing him as if trying to decide if she could blast him with fire without getting up from her comfortable position.

“Ouch,” Lance says. “You swing both ways, then? She’s a lady, you know. A very pretty one.” He begins cooing to the blue dragon again, and she leans her horn into his gently petting hand.

“I mean…no. I’ve never been interested in girls. But mostly I focus on school anyway,” Keith says. “Which might do you some good, dude.”

Lance tsks. “See, rude. This is why you’re hard to get along with.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You’re the one always jabbing at me for not having friends! I have a few, I just don’t spend _all_ my time socializing.”

Lanc’s attention catches not on the insult, but the accusation that precedes it. He pauses, Blue half lifting her giant head to peer at him out of one big eye until he resumes patting her scaly skull. “That bothers you?” Lance asks. “Me joking about your friends, I mean.”

Keith scowls. “No.”

Lance raises his eyebrows. Keith looks away.

“I’m going to try to remove her eggs from the nest,” says Shiro’s voice from somewhere behind Lance.

“Oh, god,” Lance says. “I’m probably about to be eaten by a dragon. If I die tonight, Keith, tell Hunk that I love him. Tell Pidge she can’t have my stuff, I already promised it to Hunk. Also, Keith—you’re an okay dude, you know? If I’m about to die…I’d call you my friend, man.”

Keith raises his eyebrows.

“But only if I’m about to die,” Lance says, to clarify. “If I don’t get eaten, forget I said that.”

Keith’s smile is slight, but it’s there. Something burns in Lance’s stomach, unexpectedly warm. He wonders if it’s something like what Blue feels before she breathes a spurt of fire. Oh, man, he really hopes she’s not about to do that right now.

He wants to ask Shiro how it’s going with the eggs, but he swallows his voice. If Blue hasn’t noticed Shiro yet, Lance doesn’t want to tip her off by asking Shiro a question.

“I dare you to get close to the red dragon before we go,” Lance says. His mouth curves up, sharp, his grin a reflex response to Keith’s anxious scowl. This is _such_ a good distraction from the fact that Blue could be about to toast him up for a post-dinner snack.

“ _You_ try to get near that thing.”

Lance makes a face. “Maybe I will! She’s probably not that bad. I bet she’s just turned off by your smelly personality and your ugly mullet.”

“Merlin, you’re annoying.” Keith runs a hand back through his hair. His bangs flop back into place, looking softer and cleaner than Lance gives him credit for. “I could be sleeping right now. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

“Uh,” Lance says. “Because I’m gorgeous, probably.” He smirks at Keith, shoots him with double finger-guns.

“Has that ever worked for you? Like, literally ever?”

Lance scowls at him. “You know what, Keith, I’m the one curled up with a beautiful lady right now, so you can shove it.”

“A _dragon_ , Lance. You made friends with a dragon. If she could understand a word you’re saying, she’d roast you in a heartbeat.”

“No way!” Lance pats the curve of Blue’s forehead affectionately. “Me and Blue are best buds for life, for real. Isn’t that right, Blue?” His tone is thick with bravado, but the truth lies in the dizzy relief that floods him when Shiro comes into view, circling wide around Blue with a wheelbarrow heavy with dragon eggs.

“Oh, thank Flamel,” Lance breathes. “Blue, sweetie. I’ve gotta go, okay?”

The dragon’s eyes open wide, her large pupil focused on Lance.

“I have to, okay? Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

The dragon exhales a thin stream of yellow flame, not bothering to lift her head.

Keith jumps back. “Agh!” A line of grass begins to smolder. Swearing, Keith draws his wand from his pocket, dousing the grass with a jet of water that sizzles as it hits. “I don’t think she wants you to leave,” he says grimly.

Lance looks at Blue, exasperated. “I have to.  I’ll—I’ll come visit you or something, okay? But…after the Tournament. I’ve gotta kick Keith’s butt first.”

“Keep dreaming,” Keith grumbles.

“You’re not in my dreams,” Lance says, grinning at him. “You wish, dude.”

He’s in the process of sliding down from Blue’s huge foreleg, slipping to the ground between her front legs and patting her snout with both hands, when there are voices from just outside the gate. Lance stops, still in the parentheses of Blue’s front legs.

Keith turns to face the gate instead of Lance.

Shiro freezes, leaving the wheelbarrow in the shadow along the high wall and then striding for the gate, a frown pinching his brow.

Hunk stumbles into view.

“Buddy!” Lance calls. “You made it! Look at me bonding with this awesome dragon, dude!”

But there’s something strange about the outline of Hunk’s figure in the dusk. He comes closer, and Lance can see that he’s dragging another person with him by the arm, someone tall and thin with a sharp nose and pale hair.

Lance makes a face. “Rolo?”

Keith’s scowl is directed at someone other than Lance, for a change. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I knew we couldn’t trust this guy!” The disdain in Hunk’s voice is tempered by the triumph.

“We agreed with you, dude,” says Lance, amused. “But what’s he doing here? And what are _you_ doing here?”

“Shay had to go help Coran with something. I thought I’d stop by and see if you and Keith had killed each other yet.”

Lance sniffs. “Hey, I’ve been perfectly civil.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hunk,” Keith says, folding his arms.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Hunk says. “I found this guy lurking around out there.” He gives Rolo a glare nastier than Lance knew Hunk was capable of. “I thought maybe he’d like to come hang out for a while, maybe meet your dragon friend, Lance.”

Lance blinks. “Oh.” He thinks of the conversations they’ve been having out here, not exactly bothering to keep their voices down. “ _Oh_. Dude, great idea. Rolo, you wanna come closer? Blue’s super great. She won’t bite.” He pats the end of her snout. “Probably.”

“No,” Rolo says, looking warily at Blue. “Thanks. I get the idea from here.”

“Do you?” Hunk asks. He shakes Rolo’s arm, and Rolo winces. “Do you get the ‘idea’ that if you publish anything you heard while you were eavesdropping, we’ll report you to the headmasters and the Ministry, and you’ll never be allowed on school grounds again? You don’t wanna miss covering the rest of the Tournament, do you?”

“If you even keep your job,” Keith adds.

Lance strokes the smooth scales of Blue’s nose. “And, you know. Both of your hands. And like, your head.” He grins, full of teeth.

Rolo scowls, tries to take a step back but is stopped by Hunk’s grip on his arm. “All right, all right, I get it. I won’t publish anything I overheard, okay?” The frustrated set of his jaw makes Lance think he means it.

Lance shrugs.

Hunk keeps watching Rolo with narrowed eyes.

Keith says, “Yeah, fine. You can go. But I _will_ get you fired if you write something you shouldn’t.”

“If you’re smart,” Lance tells Rolo, “you’ll be more afraid of Keith than the dragon.”

Keith turns to squint at him, jaw working.

Lance lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, that totally could’ve been a compliment!”

Keith’s eyes narrow further. “Was it?”

Lance opens his mouth. “…Yes?”

Keith’s scowl is full kill-mode when he turns away again, and Lance can’t help but grin. Rolo leaves with decidedly slumped shoulders, and Hunk’s grin is as wide as Lance’s.

“Nice, dude.” Hunk approaches Keith once Rolo is out of sight, going in for a high-five. Then he says, “Oh. Shiro, right? We sort of met after the first task.”

Shiro leaves the eggs by the wall, draped in a spare robe so that Blue doesn’t realize what’s going on. Lance’s stomach sinks with the guilt of it, and he has to remind himself that Shiro has to take away her eggs to transport them safely.

Shiro shakes Hunk’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

Lance leans back against Blue’s foreleg. “Not that this isn’t fun, but how long d’you think you need me to entertain Blue?”

“Right,” Shiro says, releasing Hunk’s hand. “She hasn’t been letting me get close, so we might have more luck if you offer her the sleeping draught she needs to drink, Lance. Sound okay?”

Lance shrugs. “I’ve been cuddling with a dragon and acting friendly with Keith. I’m up for anything.”

Hunk rolls his eyes, and Shiro goes to grab the potion, and Keith fixes Lance with a look of exasperation.

“Friendly? This is ‘friendly’ to you?”

“Totally, dude!” Lance steadies one wrist with his opposite hand, takes aim down his forearm, and zaps Keith with a finger gun. “What, you’re not enjoying the special Lance-treatment?”

Keith looks as though someone’s just magicked the ground out from underneath him.

Hunk begins to chuckle.

A small distance away, the great red dragon blows a small puff of flame into the dark night air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lov comments!!!!!!! u can also talk to me on tumblr if you want, i'm at gayflorona now !


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something white blurs against a white background—stinging cold bursts against Lance’s face. His jaw falls open. He wipes at his cheeks, dislodging wet pieces of snow.
> 
> He’s just close enough to make out Keith’s wide smirk. “Like that?”

December overtakes the castle and its grounds, the chill in the air sharpening by the day. They’re more than halfway through the month, and a blanket of snow has been draped over everything, deep enough to swallow Lance’s feet and ankles when he and Hunk step outside.

“Nice!” Lance says.

“Not nice. I have Care of Magical Creatures later,” says Hunk sadly. He wipes his nose. “Outside. For two hours. In the snow.”

“I’m so glad Allura’s letting us skip Magical Creatures while we’re here." Lance stretches his arms over his head, grinning. It’s a sunny morning, though cold. The grounds unfurl in every direction, the smoothed shapes of the landscape sparkling in the thin sunlight.

The lake will be wickedly cold when he dives to visit Plaxum and the other mermaids later, but right now he’s warm, dry, well-fed, and has finally finished his gigantic essay for History of Magic. It’s a class he likes—Professor Alfor’s ghostly form must be comprised almost entirely of pure _knowledge_ —but the pressure to do well in a class taught by Allura’s father makes it a bit fucking stressful.

“She lets you come to our classes on free periods, dude.” Hunk sticks his hands deep into his pockets, starting off down the snowy path. “If you were a true friend, you’d suffer with me.”

Lance follows him, lifting his knees high in a walking-pace, bouncing jog to keep warm. “When did that become a friendship requirement? I’ve heard you talk about Coran’s classes. I don’t wanna meet a freaking…Web-thumb.”

“Weblum,” Hunk says on a sigh. “Yeah. You really don’t.”

“Get Pidge to go with you.”

It’s Pidge they’re headed to now, just finishing her morning period in the Herbology greenhouses.

Hunk shakes his head. “She’s got Arithmancy in the afternoon.”

Lance shrugs. “Take Keith again.”

Hunk looks at him sideways, not fully turning his head. His lips twitch. “I told you Keith wasn’t that bad. Did you guys have a good time last night?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Lance kicks at the snow. “I guess it wasn’t _totally_ awful.”

Hunk laughs. “That poor dude. Did you see his face before we left, when the red dragon kept watching him?”

Lance grins. “Couldn’t have missed it.”

He remembers Keith’s face paling, his mouth twisting in a confused frown when the dragon seemed to decide she found his every movement worth following with her big yellow eyes. Keith scared and Keith pissed look a lot alike.

Something warm fizzes in Lance’s stomach, but he ignores it.

 “Dude.” Lance stops, grabbing Hunk by the arm to get him to do the same. He points. “Speaking of Keith.”

Keith has descended from the Durmstrang ship, a dark smudge against the bright snow. He walks parallel to them, strolling along the lake’s edge with Shiro’s taller, broader figure beside him. Though he hadn’t initially planned to, he returned to the castle after taking the dragons home to watch the rest of the Tournament.

Lance is distracted from the mission to meet up with Pidge. He crouches, scooping snow into a loose pile.

Hunk says, “Lance,” sounding tired, but Lance is already filling his palms with snow and clapping it together between rounded hands. He holds up a crunchy, wet ball of snow for Hunk’s inspection with a grin.

Hunk sighs.

Lance straightens, sprints a bit closer, and lobs the snowball as hard as he can at the back of Keith’s head.

Here’s the problem: snow is slippery.

Lance is a great shot. He’s super slick with a bow-and-arrow—he learned that the one time he went to summer camp. His charms like, almost never miss. He is even, he’s proud to say, an excellent shot with a good old spitball. If he were better on a broom, he’s sure he’d be great at Quidditch.

But he  _slips_ , and his missile arcs to one side.

Shiro spins around with wide eyes, hand halfway to his wand, remains of the snowball still falling in clumps from the shoulder of his robes. “Oh. Sorry, Shiro!” Lance yells. “I was trying to hit Keith!”

Catching up, Hunk says, “Come on, Lance. Let’s go.”

Something white blurs against a white background—stinging cold bursts against Lance’s face. His jaw falls open. He wipes at his cheeks, dislodging wet pieces of snow.

He’s just close enough to make out Keith’s wide smirk. “Like that?”

“Oh, ‘let’s go,’ all right,” Lance mutters to Hunk. “It’s _on!_ ”

Hunk spares a final look toward the greenhouses. Then a grin breaks across his face. “Snowball fight!”

Lance whoops, diving to the ground to collect more snow before Keith can get in another shot.

Hunk looses a snowball at Keith; Shiro pegs Hunk square between the shoulder blades when he stoops to grab more snow. Because he’s gotta avenge his best buddy, Lance winds up, releases, and sends a big ol’ melty one right for Shiro’s uncovered neck.

Lance quickly diverts to his favorite tactic: find a friend, use said friend as a shield, only venture from safety to make a quick shot.

Hunk does not love this tactic, as he expresses with a loud, “Hey!” He proposes a great alternative though, in the form of a quickly magic-built wall of snow for them to hide behind.

“Dude, nice!” Lance says, crouching behind their short protective barrier and beginning to stockpile snowballs.

He grabs one, peeks out from safety, hurls it—and okay, he should’ve maybe taken a second longer to aim.

The snowball flies wide, missing Keith entirely. Lance threw it hard, the force enough to carry it over the stretch of snow between them and the Beauxbatons carriage still sitting, pale blue and snow-topped, in the middle of the grounds. It smashes into powder against the side of the carriage—right next to Allura’s head as she pushes open the door.

Lance freezes. A snowball catches him in the chest, but he doesn’t react. Slowly, Keith and Shiro turn around.

Allura watches them, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“Lance,” she calls eventually. She doesn’t have to lift her voice much to be heard across the empty snow. “What are you doing?”

“We’re…studying?” Hunk pops up from behind their defensive wall with a wince.

Allura raises one eyebrow.

Lance sees her murmur a spell under her breath. A sphere of snow rises by charm into her outstretched hand, and before anyone can speak Allura’s snowball bursts in cold, clumpy wetness against Lance’s nose.

“I’m glad to see my champion is keeping up with his academics,” she says sweetly, brushing her palms together.

Lance is too busy staring at her, open-mouthed, to notice what Keith’s doing until a snowball smacks into Allura’s shoulder.

Allura rounds on him.

“Keith!” Lance shouts. “Dude, take cover! Get over here!” The guy _has_ just defended Lance’s honor, after all.

Keith blinks at him for a startled moment.

“Dude, come _on_!” Lance gestures rapidly for him to get his butt over here, already!

And finally Keith runs, dives behind their short protective wall. Out of breath, he says, “Thanks.”

Lance punches his shoulder. “No problem. You’re with us now, though. Start making snowballs; we’re gonna need ’em.”

Keith gives him a grim nod, but the serious expression shatters into a smile before he turns away. “I’m on it,” he says, face going studious as he begins to pile together the snow.

Lance’s stomach tingles with something distinctly warm amidst all this cold.

Oh, _hell_ no, he thinks.

It’s a tricky process for Shiro to make a snowball one-handed, but he teams up with Allura, who magicks up a big mound of them in no time, and the trio of champions gets pummeled.

Lance wails, after nearly an hour of things going badly, that “This isn’t fair!” He holds a snowball in one hand, but his arm is relaxed at his side. He’s breathing hard, warm-cheeked and wet-haired. Pidge stopped on her way back to the castle only long enough to lob a snowball at Lance, and he feels that the rest of this fight hasn't been any more fair than that moment of betrayal.

“The adults can’t team up against us! You know what, we’re re-dividing teams, _right_ now!”

Amusement twists Allura’s mouth. “I only have a couple of years on you, Lance,” she reminds him. “And aren’t you three supposed to be the best and brightest of your generation?”

This leaves Lance nothing to do but fall backwards into the snow and dramatically proclaim his discontent, moaning that he’s at a disadvantage because he’s had homework, and he’s not used to being this cold, and he stepped a little wrong on his ankle during the first task, actually, and so he should be awarded several free shots at Shiro, he thinks.

Lying in snow that begins to melt and seep through fabric of his clothes, he watches Allura scoff and Shiro roll his eyes, and he shoves away the swarm of butterflies that crams into his throat when he watches Keith laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting somewhere finally!!!! lance is REALIZING THINGS!!!!
> 
> this chapter is setting up some FUN THINGS i hope youre ready!!!!!!!
> 
> actually fair warning that i just started a really busy quarter of classes though, so updates might stay the same but they also could slow down :(


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Name’s Lance. Beauxbatons champion.” He gives her a confident smirk. “We’ve met.”
> 
> Nyma smiles a tiny smile, amusement dancing in dark eyes. “Yes. I remember you, Lance. How’s the Tournament going?”
> 
> “Whoa,” Lance says, holding up a hand and narrowing his eyes. “Slow down there, pretty lady. You work for the Prophet, don’t you? How do I know you won’t just publish everything I say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hogsmeade!!!
> 
> reminder to check out the art that inspired all this in the first place by [bubleboobo](http://bubleboobo.tumblr.com) !!

“Knock it off, Lance,” says Pidge. “Your concentrating face makes you look pissed off. It’s winter break. We’re about to buy a huge pile of Chocolate Frogs. Lighten up, already.”

Lance narrows his eyes. “It’s gotta be _perfect_ ,” he insists. “I can’t half-ass this.”

“If you haven’t come up with something perfect in the last twenty-four hours, Lance, do you really think it’s gonna come to you right now? On our last Hogsmeade trip of the year? When you could be, you know, spending time with your bestest buds?”

Lance sighs. “I know, Hunk. You’re right.” He stops abruptly in the center of the road. The small crowd of other students in town parts around them; he hears someone mumble in annoyance, but they don’t hold his attention.

“Pidge. Pidge. You’re good at Herbology. Would you be able to spell out, ‘Keith, come to the Yule Ball with me,’ in roses before next weekend?”

“No,” Pidge says flatly. She doesn’t bother to clarify whether this is because it’s an impossible task, or if she just doesn’t want to do it.

Lance sighs. “No, that’s fine.” They resume walking. “I don’t even know if Keith likes roses, anyway. Maybe I can ask the mermaids to spell it out by the Durmstrang ship, or something. In like, I don’t know, fluorescent seaweed.”

“Do you wanna borrow my telescope?” Hunk offers. “When Shay and I are done with it, of course.”

He’s been planning for weeks now to ask his girlfriend to the ball on a stargazing date this Tuesday, during which he’ll write the question in sparkling silver text in the night sky.

“No,” Lance says, sighing. “Thanks, buddy. See, that’s the thing—I have no idea if Keith is into stargazing! You and Shay have known each other for like, ever, but me and Keith…It just hasn’t been long enough to know those details, I guess.”

He stops again.

Pidge walks a few more steps forward, then notices and backtracks with a huff.

“No, wait, I _do_ know something! Oh, shit, that’s what I’ve gotta do!”

Pidge raises her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Oooh,” Lance says, a grin blooming. “Oh, man, Keith is gonna be wooed so hard. He’s not gonna know what hit him.”

“I hope I never grow up to be like this,” Pidge says, her face very serious.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hunk starts walking again, and Lance and Pidge fall into step beside him once more. “Not everyone ends up this ridiculous.”

“Thanks, guys,” Lance says sarcastically, but it’s light-hearted, his chest full of buoyant air and his skin untouched by the winter’s cold.

 

By the time they leave Honeydukes Sweetshop almost an hour later, Lance’s pockets are heavy with last minute additions to his holiday gifts for his friends.

He’s purchased several large handfuls of Chocolate Frogs in hope that at least one of the collector’s cards will be the Allura one: he finds it hilarious to give her her own face every year, though all it ever yields is an eye-roll.

He found a sour, heart-shaped candy that he’s sure Florona will throw back in his face with a laugh, and a bag of gummy jellyfish for Plaxum that have been enchanted to endlessly wriggle.

He’s got a stock of Fizzing Whizzbees for Pidge left over from the last Hogsmeade excursion, and now he’s topped off his present for Hunk, too, although it took some stealth to buy the box of candy dragon claws while Hunk was thoroughly occupied selecting flavors for his latest creative baking adventure.

It’s thus with loaded robes but light steps that he walks between Hunk and Pidge into the Three Broomsticks. After the bite of the wind outside, the air in the bar is liquid-warm like stepping into a hot bath. The tables are filled with a combination of villagers and students, their voices filling the room with an enveloping buzz as their food and drink fill it with rich, heavy smells.

“Three Butterbeers?” Hunk asks.

Pidge nods, scanning the crowded room for a free table.

“Thanks, buddy,” says Lance, clapping Hunk on the shoulder.

“There’s Ryner,” Pidge says, pointing. “I don’t see any empty tables. We can sit by her.”

They part ways; Hunk weaves through the crowd toward the bar, and Lance and Pidge struggle through the people to the small round table at which the Herbology professor sits.

“Do you mind if we join you?” Pidge asks, gripping the back of a chair.

“Not at all,” says Professor Ryner. She gives Pidge a smile as she and Lance sit down. “Have you given any more thought to my proposal? Spring is coming, you know, and it’s the optimal sowing time for many plants.”

Lance raises an eyebrow at Pidge. “Extra credit Herbology?”

He knows Pidge loves Professor Ryner, but he’d thought the idolization had to do only with Ryner’s proficiency in Pidge’s favorite subject, Arithmancy—not Ryner’s actual class.

Pidge presses her lips together, leaning forward on her elbows on the table. “Professor Ryner has this idea that I should start a personal garden on the grounds.” Her tone conveys to Lance her skepticism about this plan.

“There’s actually something else coming up in the spring, as well,” Ryner says. Her eyes catch on Lance for a moment, and she hesitates a moment. Returning her gaze to Pidge with a smile, she says, “Maybe we can talk after class sometime.”

“Uh,” Pidge says, frowning. “Sure.”

“A Butterbeer for you,” Hunk says, setting down a glass mug in front of Pidge. “A Butterbeer for you.” He places one in front of Lance, smiling. “And one for me!” He sets down his own mug and takes a seat. “Hey, Professor Ryner. Oh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you! I think I have an idea about that temperature fluctuation problem you’ve been having in the Second Year greenhouses…”

He and Ryner begin discussing in-depth the possible atmospheric side effects of several different Cooling Charms, as well as the potential use of the Impervius Charm to lengthen the lifespan of leaking waterproof gloves.

“Do you have a present for Hunk yet?” Pidge asks, turning her torso toward Lance and away from Hunk and Ryner. “I can’t decide what to get him. I’ve been thinking maybe a Muggle recipe book? He only has a couple. What are you getting?”

“It’s a surprise.” Lance winks at her over his Butterbeer.

“I won’t tell him!” Pidge insists.

Lance shakes his head. “I’d tell you, but then yours wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Oh.” Pidge narrows her eyes at him. “You’re getting us the same thing? I expected more from you, Lance.”

“Hey, they’re personalized! They’re very unique, and you’re gonna love them.”

Pidge squints at him, maintaining eye contact as she takes a drink. “Fine. You’re not getting him a cookbook, though?”

“Nope.”

Pidge nods. “Good.” She taps her fingers against the table. “Hey, if you see Shiro, can you remind him to think about what I asked?”

“Uh,” Lance says, “no. What did you ask him for? I’m not helping you with anything… _nefarious_ , Pidge.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. “Chill, Lance. It’s nothing illegal.”

“Hm,” says Lance, only a little mollified. He takes a sip of his drink.

“Just a dragon egg,” Pidge says casually, staring innocently off into the bar.

Lance nearly spews Butterbeer. He swallows hard, coughing once and hitting his chest. “You—A dragon egg—You just said it wasn’t illegal, Pidge!”

“It’s not!” Pidge says indignantly, meeting his eyes again. “They end up with eggs without mothers sometimes, you know, and there’s technically nothing that says that any wizard of legal age can’t own one, provided they have all the right papers! With, you know, a signature from a certified tamer.”

Lance’s eyebrows vault. “You’re not of legal age, Pidge.”

“No,” she says impatiently. “But Shiro is. So he could claim individual ownership of an egg, with a contract passing custody to me as soon as I’m old enough.”

“That’s…literally nuts, Pidge. You’re nuts.”

“I have the scrolls all written up already,” she says stubbornly. “Come on, Lance. Please put in a good word for me?”

She bats her eyes, which makes Lance scoff, but like—okay, yeah, maybe there’s something about the big, innocent-eyed look that reminds him of his sister, or something, because he finds his good sense trying to hop off on a quick vacation all of a sudden.

“Nope,” he says, “nu-uh, nope.” He casts his eyes around the bar—and okay, you know what, that familiar pale yellow skin and braided blond hair look like the perfect excuse to get away from Pidge before he caves and agrees to something stupid.

“Later, Pigeon.” Lance grabs his Butterbeer and stands. “Lance has got a lady to charm.”

“Whatever,” Pidge says. Lance waggles his fingers at her, then slips into the crowd to wend his way over to the bar.

“It’s Nyma, right?”

As there’s not a free stool at the bar, Lance stands casually behind Nyma’s shoulder, taking a sip of his drink.

She looks at him, her head tilting to one side.

“Name’s Lance. Beauxbatons champion.” He gives her a confident smirk. “We’ve met.”

Nyma smiles a tiny smile, amusement dancing in dark eyes. “Yes. I remember you, Lance. How’s the Tournament going?”

“Whoa,” Lance says, holding up a hand and narrowing his eyes. “Slow down there, pretty lady. You work for the _Prophet_ , don’t you? How do I know you won’t just publish everything I say?”

Nyma keeps smiling at him. “I guess you don’t. But you’re the one who started this conversation, remember?”

“True, that’s true,” Lance acquiesces, sliding himself into the narrow gap between Nyma and her stool neighbor to lean his elbow casually on the bar.

“Listen,” he says, swirling his Butterbeer and keeping his tone totally light, totally cool. “I’ve been wondering. Somebody as good-looking and obviously smart as yourself has gotta have some pull over at the _Prophet_ , huh?”

Nyma’s eyebrows lift.

“You don’t have any idea…how long my section of the champions’ article is, do ya?” He takes another drink, swallows slowly, all casual, licks his lips nice and slow.

Nyma giggles a little, twists to face him more fully, and Lance grins, encouraged.

“It’s at least longer than Keith’s, right?”

Nyma laughs airily, tosses a braid over her shoulder. “I think you owe me at least a drink, for that kind of intel.” She smiles at him. “Maybe some conversation.”

Lance chews his lip, his eyes scanning Nyma’s pretty face. “Off the record, though. We can talk, but if you and Rolo print anything I tell you, I’ll, uh…” He trails off. He can’t think of anything to threaten.

“Here,” Nyma says smoothly, grabbing a napkin from atop a stack of them on the bar. She turns away to pull a quill from her bag. “I—will—not—print—” she says, writing as she speaks, “anything—you—tell—me—in—this—conversation. Good?” She signs her name below the statement. Her handwriting is all large, elegant loops. She smiles at Lance, taller than him even if she wasn’t sitting on a high stool, long-limbed and large-eyed and very, very pretty.

That’s not what sells him.

“All right,” he says, accepting the napkin she slides across the bar. “But only because I could use someone to talk to.”

Nyma raises an eyebrow. “What about your friends?”

Lance jerks a finger in the direction of Hunk and Pidge. “Hunk’s a competing champion, so I’ve been trying not to talk about the mermaids until after the second task is over.”

Nyma leans in. “Oh?”

“Plus, he and Pidge are both totally sick of me talking about Keith, even though I’ve only known I liked him for like, a _day_.”

Nyma giggles, her nose crinkling cutely. “Tell me all about it, honey,” she encourages. “Klaizap, another Butterbeer, when you get the chance?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch me manage to mention the gay mermaids in literally every chapter like the gigantic mermaid-loving lesbian that i am. please lov them with me. i lov them so much.
> 
> also keith has 100% tried to start a fight with klaizap the owner of the Three Broomsticks, tell me what u think it was about, lol. i haven't decided yet. did klaizap try to tell him knives weren't allowed into the bar? probably.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They walk from the field to the broom shed in quiet, which would’ve been uncomfortable a few months ago, but now somehow…isn’t. Lance’s heart decides it’s time for a lengthy vacation into his throat, where it settles, warm and heavy and threatening to choke him. He can feel his pulse in the tips of his chilly, gloved fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer disclaimer obv i don't own a few lines of this dialogue, u'll prob recognize the ones that are lifted from canon. ok thats all

If there is one problem with Lance’s brilliant, amazing plan, it is this: Lance is not a brilliant, amazing flier.

Like, he’s not totally hopeless, but it’s not like he’s good enough to be selected for seeker during a pick-up game of Quidditch with some friends. And Keith… _is_ a totally brilliant, amazing flier.

“Are you sure,” Lance pants, gripping his broom handle so fiercely that his knuckles bleach, “that humans are supposed to come up this high?”

Too much altitude isn’t good for humans, right? Would a Bubble-Head Charm fix it, or is it more than just oxygen that gets thin up here? Lance can’t remember.

Keith laughs, curls through the air in a loop-the-loop that turns him momentarily upside-down and makes Lance’s stomach flop like a mermaid tail.

“We can go back down, if you want.” Amusement sings in Keith’s tone, warm and bubbling.

Lance scowls. “No way, man! I’m good; I’m totally good! I’ll go _higher_ , you just watch!”

“Lance,” Keith says around a laugh. “Don’t, you’ll get dizzy—”

But Lance has already angled his broom upwards, creeping closer to the gray winter clouds. “Oh,” he says after a moment of climbing. “Oh—Oh, whoa, dude, you weren’t kidding.”

Keith glides up after him, easily matching his height. He looks perfectly at ease, the show-off.

“I’ll race you back down.” Lance throws him a grin, his eyes sharp with challenge. He watches Keith’s eyes narrow and his fists tighten around his broom.

“You’re on.”

Lance tips his broom almost straight down, tipping into a nosedive. He picks up speed. Wind freezes his cheeks, makes his eyes water.

Keith follows a split second later, his broomstick perpendicular to the approaching ground. Lance grits his teeth, angles his broom more sharply, his stomach twisting with the speed and the height and his breath torn away by the wind or the exhilaration or maybe the wind-stolen pieces of Keith’s laughter.

Lance keeps his eyes forward, his jaw set. “You still goin‘, Keith?”

Keith’s voice grates out, low with concentration. “You know it.”

“You getting scared?”

At this, Keith laughs, and Lance fights for focus, for control of his broom, feeling like if there had been ground beneath his feet, it would’ve been yanked away by that sound.

Keith pulls ahead of him, zipping downward.

The ground is approaching, like, really freaking fast. Lance’s heart races. He yanks up on the broom handle, the snow below a blurry flash—

He doesn’t face-plant, but like…it’s not a smooth landing, either.

His knees hit, then his palms as he lets go of the broom to catch himself. The snow swallows up his hands; the impact of the ground jolts up his arms.

He groans, slow and prolonged, flopping onto his side and then onto his back in the snow. “Quiznak, that hurt.”

He lets his head fall to the side, somewhat consoled to see Keith climbing to his feet after a rough landing of his own. Irritatingly, he seems less shaken than Lance.

“Do you not fly much, at Beauxbatons?” he asks with a poorly stifled smirk, abandoning his broomstick in the snow and walking the short distance to where Lance sprawls. He folds himself to ground, sitting cross-legged at Lance’s side.

Lance scowls, pushing himself up to sitting. “I guess not. But we have a Quidditch team and everything. I’m still pretty good!”

A smile flirts with Keith’s mouth, though he still seems to be trying to suppress it. “We fly all the time, at Durmstrang. I’m sure you just need more practice.”

Lance wrinkles his nose. “Your face needs more practice, Keith.”

Keith scowls at him, flicking snow in Lance’s face with his fingers.

“You wanna go there again?” Lance asks, raising his eyebrows. “Dude, I will take you _down_ in a snowball fight.”

Keith’s grin is too smug and his quirked eyebrow is too freaking annoying, so Lance really has no choice but to lunge forward and tackle him backward into the snow.

He rests a knee on Keith’s stomach to hold him down. Keith laughs, startled; he tries to flip them, but Lance scoops at the snow and piles a few handfuls onto Keith’s face, leaving him spluttering, then gets to his feet before Keith can retaliate.

“We should probably get back,” he says, before Keith can think to gather up a snowball or to kick Lance’s feet out from under him.

Keith’s eyebrows arch. The tip of his nose is very pink. “Since when do you care about curfew?”

Lance crosses his arms. “I don’t. It’s just—cold out here.” _And I have something planned, dumbass_.

“Whatever,” says Keith, rising. “Loser gets to carry the brooms.”

“Oh, great,” Lance says, turning back toward the broom shed. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Damn it, Lance!” Keith calls as Lance begins to walk away. He jogs up to Lance’s side after a moment—holding only one of their “borrowed” brooms. “Dude. I’m not cleaning up after you. Especially not after you lost!”

“Eat snow, Keith,” Lance grumbles, but he runs to retrieve his discarded broom, if only because Iverson, the Hogwarts flying instructor, is a serious dick.

They walk from the field to the broom shed in quiet, which would’ve been uncomfortable a few months ago, but now somehow…isn’t. Lance’s heart decides it’s time for a lengthy vacation into his throat, where it settles, warm and heavy and threatening to choke him. He can feel his pulse in the tips of his chilly, gloved fingers.

Keith reaches the broom shed and tugs open the wooden door, and Lance hangs back—he wants Keith to go in first.

Once the door is opened, the dark inside of the shack begins to brighten; a soft glow from all directions grows gradually stronger, softening the edges of the long shadows and pushing them to the very corners of the small room. Brooms line shelving on the walls and fill several upright buckets on the floor, all of them school-owned and rather shabby, most of them with broken twigs and a tendency to list slightly to one direction or to jiggle unpredictably in the air.

Perched on every surface are clusters of tiny, radiant-skinned fairies, their warm yellow glow gently filling the shed. They sit quietly, their wings fluttering intermittently. The glowing light paints the walls in soft patterns that shift slightly as the fairies move, giving an ethereal, underwater effect.

Keith turns around in the doorway, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth.

Lance’s heart pounds in his throat like it wants to punch free. He grins weakly. “It’s no stargazing date, but, uh. I know you like flying.” He rubs at the back of his neck with the hand not gripping his broom, his gaze falling down and to the right. “Uh,” he says.

Why is this so hard? This is even harder than convincing the fairies to light the broom shed for them, and that was no snap! At least when facing the fairies, Lance had the mermaids on his side—which was lucky, as the fairies had found his flirting annoying. But they're partial to other magical creatures, even ones that are human-sized and water-dwelling.

Facing Keith, though…Lance has no backup, here.

He can hear his heartbeat in his temples, feel it in his palms, the soles of his feet. He takes a breath.

“Keith, would you—d’you wanna go to the Yule Ball with me?”

He can’t meet Keith’s eyes. He looks upward, eyes focused on nothing, squinting in the general direction of the cloudy sky. He’s totally chill. Not freaking out at all. He probably looks, like, totally unaffected and cool.

He feels like he might throw up.

After a long, long moment of silence, Lance makes himself look at Keith again. Keith is just…staring at him. His face is expressionless.

Lance hesitates. “Keith?”

“No,” Keith says, his voice flat.

Lance’s stomach tightens like he’s just been punched.

He manages to say, “What?”

Keith closes his eyes. “You don’t actually want to go with me.” He opens his eyes again, gaze steady on Lance and his voice unwavering. “You just know this will draw attention, and you’re starving for it.”

He glances away finally, shoving his broomstick into a barrel. “God, Haggar’s been telling me to keep my guard up around you, but I—” He breaks off, runs a hand back through his hair.

Lance stays where he is, his feet glued to the ground like he’s been Hexed.

“I didn’t want to believe her. But this proves her right, doesn’t it, Lance?”

Lance opens his mouth, finally finds his voice. “That’s not—Keith, that’s not true. Dude, that’s not what this is about at all. Why would I ask you just for the attention? I want to go with you because I _like_ you, you idiot.”

Keith snorts. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.” He grabs his bag from the floor of the broom shed, slinging it over his shoulder and digging through it. He pulls something out and comes closer. The distance between them shortens, vanishes—but Lance feels only sick and shaky, the warm, fizzing excitement he'd been nurturing in his heart before this now gone. 

Keith shoves a piece of paper at Lance’s chest. “I guess this wasn’t for the attention either, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, and Lance steps back to let him pass, boots crunching into the snow as the sun goes down in the distance.

“Keith!” Lance calls, but Keith doesn’t turn around. Lance’s heart slams hard in his throat, his hands shaking as he unfolds the newspaper article Keith shoved at him.

His eyes skim the first paragraph of the article on the front page, gliding over the black-and-white moving image of his own winking face. His stomach sinks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have I ever told you why I so distrust Durmstrang?” Allura asks.

Nyma didn’t publish anything that Lance shared off the record during their conversation in the bar last week.

Technically.

But Lance has zero doubt that their little chat was the inspiration for the piece that conquers the entire front page of today’s _Prophet_.

The headline reads: “ _Love Between Rivals?”_ in looping black text. A subheading in smaller print says, “ _Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Champions Grow Close_.”

The article spills down the whole length of the paper, accompanied by a grinning, black-and-white image of Lance’s own face, winking into the camera on the day the champions were interviewed.

“ _Though their schools nurse a spirit of fierce rivalry, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions appear to be developing a close friendship—if not something more_ ,” the article goes on to say.

“This is bullshit!” Lance insists, slapping the offending paper that rests on Allura’s desk.

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Have you not been becoming friends with Keith Gyeong?”

“What? That’s—” Lance blinks, then scowls at her. “That’s not the point! This article is an invasion of privacy! I told Nyma we were talking _off the record_. She can’t publish shit like this!”

Allura picks up the article, her eyes skating down it once more. “I don’t see any direct quotes from you, Lance. In fact, I see nothing at all that strays outside of what could be seen by a casual observer.”

“But she wouldn’t have ever thought to write this article without me talking to her about Keith! So what if there’s no direct quotes?”

“‘So what’ is that there’s nothing in here that Nyma was technically out of bounds to publish. You said you found Rolo lurking around when you and Keith went to assist the dragon tamers last month, but even the claim that you two were seen together at night cites an anonymous Hogwarts student as its source.”

“‘Anonymous student’ my ass.” Lance curls his hands into the straps of his bag, situated on his lap, gripping tightly.

Allura sighs. “Lance…” She leans back in her desk chair, a simple wooden one to match the simplicity of her wide desk. The room is painted blue and warmly lit by several lamps, an extensive collection of maps and calculation references pinned to the walls. Curled up in a jewelry box on a shelf, her mice snore quietly. Her office in the Beauxbatons carriage is smaller, but otherwise very similar to her office back at the Beauxbatons Palace.

In this moment, even in this smaller office, Lance thinks that Allura looks dwarfed by her desk and her responsibilities.

“I know you’re disappointed,” Allura says, crossing one leg over the other. She folds her hands in her lap. “But maybe…maybe this isn’t wholly a bad thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance says, leaning forward in his seat. “For a second there it sounded like you said my crushing rejection _wasn’t a bad thing_.”

Allura presses her lips together. “Perhaps this article’s strongest point is its reference to the enmity between our school and Durmstrang.”

“Yeah, I get it. We’re rivals. I never said I was gonna let the guy win the Tournament just ’cause I like him.” Lance tightens his grip on his bag. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, Allura. Can we do anything about the article, or not?”

“Have I ever told you why I so distrust Durmstrang?” Allura asks.

Lance blinks.

Allura’s expression is calm and collected, but somehow Lance is forcefully aware of how young she is, at this second. They’re practically the same age—but Allura has a whole school on her shoulders.

“Uh,” Lance says. “Nope. That hasn’t come up.” Something rustles the flap of his bag; a moment later, a small, scaly head pokes out. The miniature blue dragon Lance pulled from a bag the day of the first task claws its way out of his bag, and absently, he turns over his hand, letting it curl up in his palm. His eyes don’t stray from Allura.

“Their school trained and allowed to graduate the darkest wizard that we’ve ever known.”

“Yeah, but we can’t hate them just because that’s where Zarkon happened to go to school,” says Lance. The dragon figurine in his palm snuffles at the junction of his thumb, stands, and coils up facing the other direction with a tiny huff, its tail dragging ticklishly over Lance’s wrist.

“No,” Allura agrees. Her lips pinch together tightly, going white—she glances away, speaking to the wall instead of to Lance. “But they can be blamed for their negligence in the events that followed. Do you know how my father died, Lance?”

Lance’s eyebrows rise. “Well…Zarkon killed him, right?”

“And do you know how Zarkon located him to do so?” Allura speaks calmly, her voice as level and unconcerned as when she asks prompting questions while giving a lecture.

“Uh…He’s really good at hide-and-seek?”

Allura glowers at him.

Lance winces. “Sorry. Sorry. Not the time for a joke.” The tiny dragon nibbles at the edge of his palm.

“One of Zarkon’s more admiring professors from his time at Durmstrang helped him to discover my father’s hiding spot.” Allura rubs her forehead with her fingertips, looking immensely tired all of a sudden. “She still works there now.”

“ _What?_ ” The dragon gives a tiny squeak; Lance quickly unfurls the fist he’d been about to form as he lurched forward in his chair. “What the hell? Why isn’t she locked up?”

Allura sighs. “There was never enough evidence of her involvement to warrant her imprisonment. But there was more than enough to terminate her teaching contract.”

“So why isn’t she out a job?”

“I’ve long suspected that Headmaster Sendak had a secret loyalty to Zarkon.”

Lance sits back, staring at her. “Allura, that’s _big_. Like, holy quiznak. That’s really serious.”

Allura smiles thinly. “Yes, I know.”

Her smile falls. She leans in, the intensity of her gaze holding Lance in place.

“That’s why I’m not sure this article was truly for the worst. You must be careful, Lance. When I tell you not to trust Durmstrang, I don’t say it lightly.”

A sick feeling twines through Lance’s ribs; he glances away, frowning at the floor. “Keith doesn’t know that, though. It’s not his fault.”

“I know it’s not,” Allura says soothingly, though her face is tight. “Just…be careful. Trust can be a dangerous thing. You deserved to have all the information about from whom your new friend takes lessons before you make any decisions.”

Lance’s abdomen feels hollow. “Thanks.” His voice comes out flat.

Allura shrugs. “You’re welcome.” She straightens her spine, seeming to shed a skin of sadness and fatigue. “You should get to bed," she says, her voice as crisp and authoritative as ever. "There may not be classes in the morning, but I’m sure I gave you enough work over the holidays to require a good night’s rest.”

Lance sighs as he slips the tiny dragon back into his bag and stands from the chair in front of Allura’s desk, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. “Why’d you have to remind me?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise keith shows up next time lol


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this makes Lance’s heart turn over with the force of the surge of his affection for ridiculous, determined Keith—well. Lance can ignore that just fine. It’ll pass; he’ll get over this. It’s better this way. Lance doesn’t want to fall for someone who learns his Charms from the witch who got Allura’s father _killed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings except a bit more explicit language than there has been thus far :) theyre Unhappy, forgive them

Lance steps out of the Beauxbatons carriage and into the snow with a yawn and a long, delicious stretch, spreading his arms wide and tilting his neck one way and then the other.

“Lance!” says a voice from his left. Someone is leaning up against the side of the carriage.

Lance scowls. “What do you want, Keith?” He starts for the castle, eagerly anticipating a hot mug of coffee, a warm breakfast, and a sleepy but smiling Hunk, who he’s _way_ more interested in seeing right now than Keith.

“I need to talk to you.” Keith jogs up at his side, black boots crunching into the snow.

“Do you, now,” Lance asks flatly.

Keith exhales hard. “Would you stop and look at me?”

Lance lets his pace slow to a halt, dragging his toes in the snow. He puts his hands in his jacket pockets, turning to face Keith with a blank expression. He says, “What?”

“I know you’re upset.”

Lance folds his arms.

“So I owe you an—” Keith looks away, mirroring Lance’s crossed-arm posture. “An apology.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t think I heard you.”

Keith scowls at him. “Look. I’m sorry, okay? I know you wouldn’t have asked me just for the attention. You’re _annoying_ , but you’re not—I know that’s not something you would do, Lance. So I’m…” Keith sets his jaw. “Sorry. You should know that I don’t—see you like that. I was just…It just freaked me out for a second. I let Haggar get in my head. That’s all.”

Lance narrows his eyes. Keith’s jaw is tight, the corners of his mouth angled down, but his eyes on Lance burn in a way that makes Lance want to believe him.

“Yeah,” Lance says. He looks away, eyes falling on the Hogwarts Castle. He shrugs. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Lance doesn’t have to see Keith’s face to recognize the note of hope that tilts his word up at the tail-end.

“‘Okay’ you’ll…go to the ball with me?”

Lance’s ribcage does something funny in his chest, constricting like it’s been hit with a Shrinking Spell and squeezing around his heart. Only when he’s crafted a carefully blank expression does he turn back to face Keith.

“Nope.” He quirks a smile, a flat, dead one that doesn’t touch his eyes and lasts for only a second. “Sorry to deprive you of all this.” He makes a small, sweeping gesture with one hand to indicate his whole body.

Keith stares at him. “Are you fucking with me, Lance?”

Lance gives him that smile again—insincere, devoid of warmth. “Nah. Sorry, pal.”

“Then _why_? Damn it, Lance—I’m sorry, okay? You have to give me a second to—to process shit, to catch up!”

“It’s not that.”

Well, it was that, is that—he won’t pretend like Keith’s accusation that Lance would just _use him_ didn’t sting. Is that really all Keith sees of him? Does he really believe that Lance has no depth at all?

But yeah, no, at this second, even that frayed nerve takes a backseat to something bigger: the truth he’s just learned from Allura.

“Look,” Lance says. He opens his hands, palms-up, and serves up a smile to soften the blow. “Our schools don’t like each other. I think we should’ve just stuck with that. Maybe it’s better if we’re not friends, Keith.”

Keith says, “Lance, what the _fuck_.”

Lance gives him an apologetic smile, brief and unfeeling. “Sorry, dude. I’ll see you around.”

He starts for the castle again, feeling the cold even through the soles of his boots.

“ _Lance_.”

Keith is still following him, the stubborn fucker.

If this makes Lance’s heart turn over with the force of the surge of his affection for ridiculous, determined Keith—well. Lance can ignore that just fine. It’ll pass; he’ll get over this. It’s better this way. Lance doesn’t want to fall for someone who learns his Charms from the witch who got Allura’s father _killed._

“Who are you taking to the ball, then?” Keith falls into step beside him, arms crossed, eyes glittering as fiercely as ever.

 _This isn’t just another challenge, Keith_ , Lance thinks. They’ve strayed by accident into something real, into something bigger than themselves and into something more vulnerable than unemotional competition between strangers—and now it’s all just a freaking mess.

“You know you can’t just take Hunk. He has a date.”

“I’m not going with anyone,” Lance snaps. “Just drop it, okay?”

Keith glares at him. “No.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Keith. Buddy.” He stops walking. “If I’m not taking you, I’m not taking anyone. Okay? Drop it.”

He starts walking again. Keith follows, his face hard.

“What the hell is going on, Lance? I apologized, okay? I don’t fucking like doing that, you know! Are you seriously not gonna give me another chance?”

“No,” Lance says flatly, because he aches, aches, is a weakly stitched-together patchwork of dramatized confidence and smirks and if he opens up again and has to hear that Keith thinks of him as nothing but a shallow jerk—

Lance’s stomach rolls, and he keeps walking toward the castle now only for the promise of Hunk, no longer feeling any interest in eating.

“You have to have a date to the Yule Ball.” Keith sounds angrier than Lance has ever heard from someone trying to win themselves a date. “Champions start the dancing. You have to take _someone_.”

“Well, I’m not. I know it’s depressing to miss out on the opportunity to dance with me, but you’re starting to look pathetic, dude.”

Keith’s face twists. “You’re so fucking _annoying_.”

Lance smirks. If he’s ‘annoying’ enough, Keith can go on believing Lance is as shallow as the rocky shores of the lake, and then at least Lance won’t have to worry about his relationship with Keith fucking anything up for Allura or the school or like, the whole wizarding world at large.

“Love you, too,” he says with a too-sharp grin.

And if the words try to choke him on the way out, at least he hides it well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you as excited for the ball as i am!!!!!!!!!


End file.
